Headhunters by Charlie Cole

client/recruiter way and then I
sprang the question on her that I was new in town, who did she take her kids to
when they needed to go to the doctor. Since her firm was in the business of
suing doctors for malpractice, the people in the firm went to the doctor with
the best record, Carl Cohen, my neighbor.
    “Geez oh Pete’s!” Carl huffed. “What’s gotten into you?”
    “I’m sorry, Carl. Rough day at the office.”
    “Why are you parked in the drive?” Carl asked, then eyeing
my food,”Did you bring me dinner?”
    Carl and I watched football together on Sundays during the
regular season. He was a Bears fan. Being born in Wisconsin, I rooted for the
Packers. We’d razz each other all season and usually alternated who brought
over the game food. Carl’s wife, Barbara, could burn pasta, I swear to God.
    “No, I didn’t bring you dinner,” I said. “I’m trying to
surprise someone.”
    “Mission accomplished. You surprised the hell out of me.”
    “Very funny. I’m trying to surprise someone at my house,”
then after a moment. “Relatives… visiting.”
    “Well, to do that, you’d need to be at your house…”
    I shot Carl a look and he relented.
    “Go on back by the shed,” he said. “Stay low. Follow the
lilac bushes. If you cut through the hedge… be careful. Barb will be upset you
mess with her lilacs…”
    “Carl…”
    “Sorry, cheesehead,” he shot back. “Cut through the hedge
and you should be able to come out by your wood pile next to the house.”
    I pictured it in my head. The woodpile was on the back
corner of the house. Close enough to the back door, but far enough away to not
be seen approaching.
    “You’re the best, man,” I said and headed off in the
direction he’d indicated.
    I walked along the side of Carl’s garage. At the corner, I
peeked toward my front drive. There was an agent standing in the driveway,
looking up the road. He was waiting for me. I kept my eyes on him and jogged
toward the shed. Carl’s shed was painted to look like a barn, red with white
trim. It was where he kept the lawn mower and other yard tools.
    The agent hadn’t seen me so I crouched down and followed the
lilac bushes toward the back end of Carl’s property. So far, so good. I was
about to push my way through the bushes when I heard an evil sounding
mechanical growl. It took me a moment but I realized it to be Carl’s lawn
mower. He was back at work again. This was good, I convinced myself, it would
cover the sound of my approach.
    I leaned into the space between the bushes and felt the
branches give under my weight. I slipped through and immediately saw the second
agent at the rear of my house. He was facing away from me, his head hunched,
concentrating on something. He was trying to communicate to the agent in the
front lot by radio and the mower noise was making it difficult. I broke into a
low jog for the woodpile. He might come over to investigate the noise and I
wanted to be ready.
    I got to the woodpile safely. I looked to the back lot, then
the front. No voices were raised. No one was coming running. They hadn’t seen
me so far.
    I put the bag of Chinese food on the woodpile and carefully
reached inside. The thing about Ming’s Palace is that while the food is
excellent, they always sent along a container of gravy whether I ordered one or
not. On any normal day, I’d gripe about it. But today was far from a normal
day.
    I pulled the Styrofoam container of steaming gravy from the
bag and loosened the lid. It still held on by one side, but it would come loose
when I wanted. I picked up the bag again in my left hand and walked to the
corner of the house. The agent was still there, facing away but no longer on
his radio. I inhaled deeply, then tried to control my breathing, my heart rate.
Tried to focus. Tried to remember my training.
    When Kendrick had started Blackthorn, he had made a deal
that his key personnel be trained in a customized training program only for us.
We were